Foul words
by cyle
Summary: A life at Hogwarts seen through the eyes of an... unusual girl. Sarcasm, mistakes, adventures, mistakes, psychology, more mistakes... A soul in search of Life, the Universe and Everything... at Hogwarts.
1. All the wrong reasons

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine and all the bla bla bla… Just imagine for a second if it was…

Chapter 1:

All The Wrong Reasons

I've arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. A beautiful castle lost in the middle of the Highlands and I just might have appreciated its serenity if it weren't for the fact that that the place is crawling with 11 to 17 year old students. And teachers, which is possibly worse. I hate people and I hate crowds, so I'm guessing it's going to be hard adapting. I've spent most of my life - no actually that's a lie, only 3 years (3 years, so little?) - isolated in my parents' house. Anyway, that's beside the point. I'm at Hogwarts now and I presume a new era is commenced. I admit I feel mildly excited but otherwise as usual. Incredibly bored. My roommates are about as entertaining as a bunch of hibernating otters: they've all gone to sleep. From the little I witnessed of them during the feast they seem to be just as wildly witty when they are awake. Let me remind myself how I managed to land in the midst of such a banal crowd.

There exists at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a ceremony, especially gleaned for the terrified first years (such as me). This is named the Sorting Ceremony by its nature; to sort the helpless children into the four Hogwarts houses: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor. This torturous procedure consists of putting a singing hat on one's head, which, granted I would have found entertaining had it not been for the fact that I would have to stand alone in front of a crowded hall and I thoroughly detest being in the limelight, be it one millisecond. However, I did enjoy the song, which was far from being Shakespeare, but amusing.

The problem in the matter is this: the Sorting goes by character traits, how did he put it… Well, basically, Gryffindors are brave and noble, Hufflepuffs are loyal and hard working, Ravenclaws are intelligent and Slytherin are cunning, ambitious and, apparently, unscrupulous. This is a problem simply because I am none of these. My personality is similar to a barren landscape of windless air on a grey indistinct weather day (if I haven't made myself clear enough yet), perhaps with a bit of storm now and again.

This is how proceeded my Sorting (which came too quickly to my liking); I didn't even give the hat a chance to speak:

_Hello_, I said in my mind, taking his words 'there's nothing hidden in your head the Sorting Hat can't see' literally. _Look here, it's simple. I'm not brave. I don't believe in nobility. I'm loyal to no one, not even myself. I'm not intelligent so let's not go that way. And I'm not ambitious. So, do you suggest I go home?_

There was a loaded silence, then…

_Where do you want to be?_ asked the hat, a touch of amusement in his voice.

_In the place where people are most likely to leave me alone._

_Slytherin,_ said the hat without hesitation.

_I think not. I am a weak nature and Slytherins don't look like a friendly lot. I'd be eaten alive._

_Indeed. But Slytherins only take interest in people who are of use to them and since you quite obviously are not_- again hint of amusement, I was torn between asking him what was so funny or smashing him into the wall- _they'll let you be because they never turn against their peers._

Sounded like a reasonable argument.

_Go for Slytherin then. _But the hat hesitated again.

_Are you sure?_

_I hate that question_, I replied simply.

_Very well. _SLYTHERIN! came the almighty verdict.

But just before I took the hat off my ears I heard one final question.

_Are you really a mute?_

_A/N: this is very much OC. So if you don't like it, steer clear. Spoilers up to OotP but slightly modified._

_PLEASE REVIEW!!_


	2. Once Upon A Midnight Dreary

Disclaimer: Well, you probably already know this because after all this is a fanfiction site…

Chapter 2:

Once Upon A Midnight Dreary

Woke up early. Woke up damn early. It should be biologically impossible to wake up at three in the morning. While I'm waiting for the others to emerge I'm going to write the account of how I got to Hogwarts in the first place. I mean, where I come from it's rather unusual to end up in a boarding school in the middle of no where studying magic. Especially when one is talking about Marianne Cathcart, the 'living ghost'. Anyway…

The first I ever heard of Hogwarts was the night between the 18th and the 19th of July this year. That's a month and a half ago now. It was near midnight and I'd locked myself up in my room, as usual, turned off all the lights except the stand lamp between my sitting chair and the window. It had the soft glow that is sufficient for reading but does not reach the crack beneath the door so I knew that when dad came to check I was asleep he would not see it. I was sitting quietly, lost in my own universe, as usual (can't remember what I was thinking about though), listening to Simon and Garfunkel, very, very softly, barely audible if not for the silence of the night.

Then, I heard a scratching at my window. It was rather irritating, and, in the deep silence, it sounded to my ears like claws dragged on a blackboard. It seemed so loud, so pervasive, I dreaded it would wake my parents and bring them to my room. So, without thinking I just opened the window so that whatever was making the noise could come in. I didn't really think or consider what was coming. It was rather like in dreams when something irritates you so much you just do whatever first comes to you're mind to stop it, knowing that, ultimately, nothing will harm you. I do that from time to time; make rash decisions on instinct.

In swoops this enormous bird. A tawny owl. I know a little about owls because they're the birds I most admire. And I know that a large tawny owl does _not_ scratch at a human's bedroom window and fly inside. So fearing the worst of this unusual behaviour I just stare at it as it settles and sits on my bedstead. There follows a very deep and intense silence only disturbed by the faint sound of 'Bleeker Street' in the background, as the owl and I stare at each other. Suddenly, and rather ominously, Poe's poem _The Raven_ pops into my mind and I'm almost awaiting the owl to open his beak and sqwawk 'Neveremore'. Rather ominous indeed.

Then, the owl hoots and to my horror I understand the words and I immediately conclude that I am, indeed, facing my own raven. Before the words actually register in my brain. Something along the lines of:

_Don't look at me like that, mate, it's _your_ letter._

_What letter? _I wondered, puzzled.

_The one in your lap. I'm supposed to make sure you read it and answer._

I look down at my lap and, sure enough, there's a letter, quite a heavy one too. I was so shocked by the owl's appearance, I didn't even notice it fall. I picked it up. It was made of heavy parchment and was sealed shut with a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms: a lion, a serpent, a badger and an eagle surrounding a letter H. The envelope was addressed to:

_Miss M. Cathcart_

_Attic Room_

_13 Methren Street_

_Dundee_

_Angus, Scotland_

Well, it was quite definitely for me, no mistakes. I broke the seal and shook the letter out. It read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster; Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Miss Cathcart,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Being aware of your non-magical origins a set of instructions to reach platform 9 ¾ and Diagon Alley has been enclosed as well._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your answer by owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

To any rational minded person this would be absolute codswallop. Fortunately, I am not rational. This could certainly explain certain…incidents in my past. Such as mysterious exploding vases or my next door neighbour's talking cat. I looked up towards the owl.

'_Your answer by owl'. Does that mean I send you back with my reply?_

_That's it_, replied the owl. I considered a moment, then sighed.

_I have to talk to my parents first, I suppose. Can you stay here for the night?_

_Where?_

_On the rafters, _I replied, pointing upwards._ If you're quiet my parents won't go completely mad and shoot you._

_How very reassuring._

I turned the stand lamp off and climbed into bed, pondering these unbelievable events. I had talked to an owl. I had a letter stating I had a place in a school of magic. Therefore I was a witch. But as the comforting atmosphere of my room faded to the deep of night, as the shadows crept into my room, so did my doubts, invading my soul. A witch? Witches did not exist. I had believed they did, longer then any normal child would, but even so it was madness to let myself indulge in some childish fantasy now. Madness. There's the key word. Perhaps Dr. Marlow was right and I was finally swamped by the chaos of my subconscious. Maybe the sickness that had been gnawing at me for three years had finally taken its toll and tonight I'd teetered over the edge. Well, if I had, it didn't feel too bad. Madness really isn't what it's cracked up to be. So, I'll be a witch if I want to be. Even if I know I'm not and I know they don't exist. When you're mad you can claim anything you want and people will accept it with a smile and a nod. Yes, I thought, as I fell asleep, that's an excellent arrangement. I'll say I'm a witch and everybody will think I'm mad. Perfect.

And yet… it felt so real. So… expected. I shot out of bed again and picked up the letter from my bedside table. The parchment was real. The wax, the insignia. The address was perfect. _The Attic Room_… The words were there, beautifully hand written: _We are pleased to inform you…_

I knew my answer. My mind was set and I am an incredibly stubborn girl. But my parents will not approve my decision and, unfortunately, they have authority.

Next morning, I came down early and made breakfast. When my parents finally came down, the letter was waiting for them with an added note saying: '_I received this yesterday night. Tell me what you think.'_ My father picked up the parchment and my mother leant over his shoulder to read with him. She immediately averted her eyes as if the letter was insulting, looking pale. But my eyes were focused on my father, because, ultimately, the decision rested on him. When he finished, dad scoffed and threw the letter back on the table with an irritated toss.

"Is that your idea of a joke? Not very good, or very original.". I scowled at him

"_Actually, I did not write that letter as is quite obvious because the handwriting isn't mine!"._ He snorted.

"Well, if it isn't you, it's some completely stupid random prankster. Just ignore it."

Unfortunately, I couldn't ignore the owl who was still sleeping in my rafters.

"_Maybe we should write an answer anyway. Just in case. You never know…"_, I ventured.

"And send it to where? There's no address, except for that school crap. Actually, there aren't any stamps…" he continued suspiciously.

My mother, who had been very silent up till then, spoke up:

"We should answer them in any case. Tell them to leave us alone. We'll get it to them somehow." Her expression was unnaturally casual. She was hiding something. I suddenly remembered her reaction upon seeing the letter. Did she know? My father snorted derisively.

"It's just a bloody time waster. Just ignore the damn thing." Always true to his disagreeable self is my father, but we did leave it at that. As I got up from the table, I wondered what I was going to do with the owl. Send him back without an answer? I climbed up to my room.

_My parents don't believe your letter and quite frankly, I understand them._

_Then why do you believe it?_

_Because it's the simplest answer to how I turned Dr. Marlow's hair bright orange last February._

_So what are you going to do?_

_I don't know but I am sorely tempted to reply myself and tell them I'm coming, parents approval or not. Won't be the first time I run away from this place._

I stood morosely, pondering the sanity of this course of action when a knock came at my door. I motioned the owl to stay quiet, then opened the door. There stood mum. She handed me a sealed envelope marked _Albus Dumbledore_.

"Send this reply back", she said simply and went back downstairs. I stared at her, confused. She knew. But how? I sighed and turned away.

The owl was already waiting on my bedstead. I handed him the letter which he clamped into his beak. Then I opened the window to let him fly off. And that was the end of a very brief stitch of strangeness. I leaned on the window sill, watching as he disappeared, letting the warm breeze play on my skin and thinking what a great escape I had let slip through my hands.

I locked myself in my room all day, ignoring my mother's calls to lunch and tea. My parents were used to such absences by now, so they didn't investigate. I spent the day listening to music, reading, doing my maths and my English… Keeping my mind on things that calmed me down.

In the late evening, I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't really register the sound, too lost in my regret. I was elaborating a complicated plan to make my way to Hogwarts. I had two clues: Diagon Alley and platform 9 ¾ at King's Cross, neither being very helpful. King's Cross is in London. I'm in Dundee. Already one obstacle. Train from Dundee to Edinburgh, then another from Edinburgh to London. Then I had to find a platform which obviously could not exist. And there were all the school supplies I needed and had no idea how to get.

Before I could let myself wallow in my despair, I heard raised voices coming from downstairs. What could cause such an uproar? I unlocked my door and peered down the dark, narrow staircase that led to my attic. I winced as it creaked loud enough to wake the dead. Yes, there were shouts coming from the ground floor but it was only my father making the noise (typically). I could also hear my mother's faint pleas and… somebody else? I tiptoed carefully down the stairs, avoiding the steps that creaked, to the first floor. I padded swiftly down the carpeted corridor to the main stairs that led down to the hall.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, PRANCING IN HERE, DRESSED LIKE YOU'RE THE FUCKING QUEEN OF ENGLAND? LIKE HELL YOU CAN TAKE MY DAUGHTER AWAY TO SOME CRACK POT MAGIC SCHOOL!" I heard my delightful father proclaim.

"Bruce, please, try to understand…" my mother pleaded.

"THERE'S NOTHING TO BLOODY UNDERSTAND! IT'S A PILE OF CRAP! I DON'T WANT SOME SCHIZOFRENIC MADMAN IN MY HOUSE!"

"Ah, madman I might agree with but schizophrenic might be going a bit too far" another man's voice replied. It was composed and sounded slightly amused, the kind of amusement that drives you mad because you don't know the joke. His voice reminded me of an autumn sunrise where the rays of light try to reach you through the cold. It reminded me of old bookstores where the rickety stacks of books radiate knowledge. It reminded me of walking at night in crowded streets lit with street lamps. It reminded me of safety and calm and love and things that I had forgotten existed. I started slowly down the stairs, drawn by the voice, but stopped as the scene in the front hall appeared. The most extraordinary man was standing in the entrance.

He was tall, thin and very old, with long white hair and beard. His eyes were a piercing blue that peered inquisitively over half-moon spectacles, which were perched on a very crooked nose. He was wearing long purple and gold robes and high-heeled, buckled boots. I was inclined to disagree with my father; the queen of England dressed fancy but she wasn't _that_ eccentric.

My father and mother were facing the man, their backs to the stairs so they did not see me. The old man, however, did. His eyes caught mine and I couldn't tear my eyes away from his gaze. He smiled at me.

"DON'T TRY TO BE CLEVER WITH ME, OLD MAN! YOU'RE COMPLETELY SENILE AND I WANT YOU OUT! YOU HEARD ME! OUT!"

But whoever the man was, he completely ignored my father's unconvincing outburst and continued to smile up at me.

"Hello, Miss Cathcart", he said. "Delighted to meet you."

Both my parents whirled around and stared at me. Dad looked quite psychotic and I thought the strange man must be very brave not to quail at his furious glare. Mother looked petrified and she had what looked like a red mark across her face. Had someone hit her? Before I could ask dad screamed at me.

"Go back upstairs! This has nothing to do with you!"

I regarded him coldly. As far as I could tell this certainly _did_ have something to do with me. It was _my_ life in question here.

"You are mistaken, Mr. Cathcart. This concerns Marianne very much and she should have voice in the decision making" said the man, stepping closer.

Dad whirled back and pointed threateningly at the man.

"You! I said get out! Do you understand? Out! She doesn't have any voice in any decision making because there's no fucking decision to make!"

"But there is" insisted the man, fixing my father with a steely look. "And I believe your daughter should have her say. I have not heard her speak her mind yet."

"She can't speak" spat my father resentfully. I glared at him, then stomped down the stairs and down the hall till I was standing just in front of the man. I fished for my notelace (that's notepad and necklace in one word) and scribbled:

'_I'm sorry but I don't know who you are.'_

He took the note looking puzzled then read it and smiled.

"I do apologize. I have not introduced myself properly. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, better known as Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." Then he considered me curiously. "Are you mute?"

I nodded. I heard my mother try to interrupt but Albus Dumbledore lifted a hand to silence her.

"But you are not deaf?" he continued, more as a statement than a question. I shook my head anyway.

"Mr. Dumbledore. Perhaps we should discuss this in the living room now that we've all cooled down" said my mother, shooting anxious looks at both at me and my father, who had retreated into a furious sulk.

"Before we discuss anything Mrs. Cathcart I would like to ask Miss Cathcart a question." He looked down at me gravely. "Would you like to come to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Miss Cathcart?"

I didn't hesitate. I smiled and nodded. He smiled back and faced my parents again.

"Very well. We can discuss anything you wish."

"We'll talk in the living room. Privately" she added, giving me another anxious glance.

"I'm sure that whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of your daughter" said Dumbledore, his smile disappearing again, his tone stony.

"Will you stop telling us what and what not to do with our own daughter, for Christ's sake!" Oh no. My father had decided to break his silence. Pity. It was almost restful.

"As you wish. I am certain you know what is best for your daughter" said Dumbledore, inclining his head.

Personally, I gladly escaped that discussion. I knew what they would say. I knew the words they would use.

Clinically depressed.

Clinically depressed? The words make me laugh (figuratively - I can't actually laugh). What do they mean? I don't know and yet that's what I am. They're me. We are inseparable now that bloody wanker Dr. Marlow decided we should be. along with borderline personality, schizophrenia and many more delightful symptoms. Oh yes. I sneaked into his office after hours to read it. A load of crap if you ask me but I'm sure he knows what he's saying. After all, it's his job. But I would be very grateful if people would not whisper, every time I pass, the damnable words 'clinically depressed'.

No wonder I'm reclusive.

So I barricaded myself in the kitchen, far from their voices and their words. An hour passed. I heard the living room door open. I rushed out into the hall expecting… God knows. Suspicion. Horror. Disgust? But certainly not what came next.

Albus Dumbledore merely smiled at me chummily, as he had done before, and beamed.

"I have persuaded your parents to let you come to Hogwarts. We have agreed for someone to accompany you to Diagon Alley tomorrow to buy your school supplies."

He walked to the door and opened to the warm night outside. He turned back towards my parents who both seemed to be a little stunned.

"I'm glad we could come to an arrangement. Your daughter will be well taken care of." Then he looked back at me with a twinkle in his eyes. "I'll be looking forward to seeing you at Hogwarts, Miss Cathcart."

And, with that, he was gone.

__

A/N: Yes, Marianne is meant to be Scottish but she doesn't sound like it. That is mainly because I am not Scottish.

_Detail: My character is mute so communicating is going to be an issue._

_Her thoughts are in italics  
__Sign language is in italics with speech marks eg: "Actually, I did not write that letter as is quite obvious because the handwriting isn't mine!"  
__When she writes a note it's also in italics with simple speech marks eg: 'Do you mind if I go in alone?'  
__When she communicates with thoughts it'll be written in italics like her thoughts – hopefully this won't confuse you too much  
__Normal speech is written in regular with speech marks_

_Furthermore… I have managed to update a second chapter! Huzza!!! But since there are very few of you who actually read my stories it will remain a private victory._

_PLEASE REVIEW! _


	3. Brave New World

Disclaimer: Same old story. Nothing new.

A/N: This is Marianne's account of how she got to Hogwarts continuing by the way.

Chapter 3:

Brave New World

I woke up early again and slipped out of bed to watch the sunrise. My windows face east so I have an excellent view of the morning light, if not the actual sun because it is hidden by the other buildings. As I gazed out at this daily spectacle I couldn't help wonder if yesterday had been a dream. Everything seemed so normal, everything in its usual place. It seemed to me that when one finds out they are a witch the sun should be rising in the west and everything should be different.

But everything had been different for me. I talk to cats. I talked to an owl yesterday. I made things explode. I heard songs coming from nowhere. I saw things other people did not. I turned people's hair orange. I was different and maybe, _maybe_, I had been given an explanation to all my ceaseless questions, the solution to all my problems. Maybe I could belong somewhere. Dumbledore seemed to think as much.

However, I will not give in to possibly silly dreams. Hope for the best, expect the worse. That's the best advice I ever had in my life. And it came from a book called The Witches of Whitby. Perhaps it was prophetic.

True to Dumbledore's word, a small squirrel-looking woman appeared at our front door at 11 o'clock. Dad had already left for work which left me and mum alone at home. I raced to the door when the doorbell rang and flung it open. The squirrel woman beamed at me.

"Hello" she said in a breathless voice. "I'm Sue Sheldon. You must be Marianne Cathcart. Delighted to meet you. I'll be taking you around Diagon Alley for your school supplies and I'll try to give you all the information you need about the wizarding world. But it's so frightfully difficult to fit everything in to one day. I'm afraid you'll probably still have a lot of questions at the end of the day, or even perhaps more, that you will have to have answered once you get to Hogwarts. But I'll try my best. Oh, you must be terribly excited to be going to Hogwarts, especially being a Muggle and all that, it must be completely new to you. Are you scared? I would be, but I was born in a wizarding family so I wouldn't know what it's like. What is it like, dear? Dreadfully daunting I must imagine. Going into an unknown world all by yourself. It must be like… oh, what do you call them again? Astrononts? Something like that anyway…"

I was slightly bowled over by Sue's capacity to speak so fast and so long without drawing a single breath. Here I was facing the one person in the world who could compensate for my lack of vocal cords.

"Hogwarts is a smashingly good school. The best in the wizarding world I dare say. I went there. Oh it feels just like yesterday and yet it was _years_ ago. I was a Hufflepuff, you know. Oh, well, of _course_ you don't, I haven't explained anything properly to you yet. Here I am chatting away like a magpie. We must be setting off. Very busy day. Have you got everything you need? Oh, and by the way call me Sue, none of this Mrs. Sheldon business. It makes me feel quite old."

I smiled. It'd been a long time since I'd seen someone so naturally cheerful. An immense sense of relief flooded me. Maybe I would be able to finally discover the outside world again. It's not as if I hadn't been outside for three years. It's just that every time I'd go out it was with people who looked at me askance because of my… peculiarities. Or else it was because I had run away and I was with no one whatsoever.

I lifted my bag to show her I was all set to go out (I'd been for at least two hours) and stepped outside.

"Jolly good! And you, Mrs. Cathcart, will you be joining us? A great mother-daughter occasion. You'll want to know everything your daughter will be learning in this new world, I expect."

My insides suddenly went all cold. Mum? Come with me? I hadn't really thought of it. I presumed that non-magical people couldn't go into the magical world. Obviously I was wrong. I turned around to look at mum. She was hovering at the door, biting her lower lip and looking very much like a child who desperately wanted to do something but wasn't sure whether she was allowed. Then she turned to me.

"I suppose it's up to Marianne to make that decision."

Oh no. I hate that. I really do hate that. When people put their own decisions on your shoulders and so whatever the outcome is it'll always be your fault. And in this instance neither option was good. If I told her she couldn't come, she'll be disappointed but if I said she could…

I didn't want her to come. This was my adventure, this was my new life and I didn't want her trespassing on it. I wanted to make this discovery alone.

I looked away and shook my head. I could almost imagine my mother's crestfallen face. Even Sue was silent for a few moments. I daren't look up. I suddenly hated myself for creating such a cold atmosphere right at the start of the day.

"Well, then." Sue said in an overly cheerful voice. "Shall we head off?"

I nodded and avoided looking at mum. We started down the front stairs and down the street. I didn't hear the front door close so I guess mum must have been watching us go.

"Right then" started Sue, her cheeriness entirely restored. "First step is _getting_ to Diagon Alley which is actually in London."

I gaped at her. London? But it'll take us an entire day just to get to London, let alone do a whole lot of shopping. Sue grinned at me.

"I know what you're thinking" she said, waggling a finger at me. "You're thinking it will be impossible for us to get to London and back and get the shopping done in one day. Well, let this your first lesson about the wizarding world. We have ways of travelling and ways of communicating that are much faster than any Muggle invention. Muggle is non-magical, by the way", she answered my silent question. "Some are almost instantaneous. Like Apparating. Unfortunately, you can't get you're licence till you're seventeen so that'll have to wait. We're going to use Floo Powder. But first we have to find a chimney which is connected to the Floo network. I'll explain once we get to Isobel's house" she added, seeing my confused face.

Then she looked furtively about and flung her right hand out, as if signalling a taxi. I had no time to be confused before there was a resounding 'BANG' and a purple triple –triple?- decker bus appeared. It skidded to a halt in front of us and Sue jumped on.

"35 Crishton Street, Dundee, if you please." The driver grunted non committally. A boy in his late teens, grinned at us and said:

"It's Mrs. Figgs stop first. She's been in 'ere since six o'clock. Looking well green now."

"I'm not surprised" said Sue. "In here? For five hours? Poor dear." She gave the driver a glance of disapproval. The boy's grin widened.

"That's wha' a said. Probably a record, five hours."

"Where's she going to?"

"Som'ere in Surrey. Little Whinging was it, Ern?"

"Arr" replied the driver.

"We're going to have to go all the way to Surrey before going to Crishton Street? Oh well, it's really not worth it. Take us straight to The Leaky Cauldron from there, will you?"

"Arr" was the reply.

Then came another 'BANG' in which I was thrown unceremoniously to the other side of the bus. I was the only one who was sprawled on the floor. Everyone else seemed to be completely used to this completely unusual behaviour in the bus. I was sure there was something wrong with the engine. Buses don't make that sort of noise. I tried to write a note which proved to be very difficult because Ern had quite obviously not mastered the skill of steering and I was quite sure we were going to crash. I finally passed my note to Sue who was helping me back to my seat. She laughed.

"This bus doesn't have an engine. It runs on magic. Don't ask me the details, I must confess I have no clue how it does work. The bangs mean that we've apparated in another part of the country, that's all. Right now we're in Surrey and I believe we've arrived at Arabella's house."

Indeed, the bus slowed down (much to my relief) and a very woozy looking woman descended.

"Come now. Have a seat. It's much easier to avoid falling over. I must admit I didn't think we would be travelling such long distances on this thing. The further the jump the worse it is. But now that we're so close to London it just seems silly to go to Isobel's to use the Floo. We'll use it on the way back and use the Muggle buses to get you back home."

I looked outside. This was Surrey. And just a few minutes ago I'd been in Dundee. I was lost for words. The only mildly articulate thought that came to my mind was… cool.

There was yet another ear-splitting 'BANG' and we were in a gritty city street. London, I presume. We stopped in front of a grubby looking pub with a sign reading: The Leaky Cauldron. Original name. We got off. I realised as the bus disappeared with another bang that I hadn't paid for my ticket. I notified Sue and she simply said:

"It's on me. Now, this place is famous and I don't doubt you'll be spending a good bit of time here once you grow up. It also happens to be the only Muggle entrance to Diagon Alley. Come on. I'll show you."

We entered and I was transported into another time. This place was fantastic. It was a pub fit for the dodgiest corner of London in a Dickens novel. It was shabby, rustic and encouraged brawls. It had suspicious looking patrons who were hidden in a cloud of pipe smoke. The hum of voice was loud enough to envelope you in a wall of sound and low enough for you to hear yourself think. Sue was right. I _will_ be spending my time here someday.

She steered me through the crowd to a back door and we pushed through to a small courtyard. Sue dug into her coat pocket and pulled out a long thin stick.

"This", she said, "is a wand and it is the most important tool a wizard possesses. One is never fully dressed without one's wand. That'll be on your list of supplies. You have got your list with you?"

I opened my bag and fished around for my letter. I pulled it out and unfolded it.

"Don't mind that for the moment. Watch what I'm doing carefully and remember it. Write it down if you must because it's the only way you're getting back to Diagon Alley. Now then. Three up and two across."

She brandished her wand then tapped the wall three times. The brick wriggled and then a small hole appeared and grew and grew and grew…Till there was a broad stone archway leading onto the most spectacular cobble-stone street I have ever seen or heard of in my life.

"Welcome to Diagon Alley."

Diagon Alley twisted and turned in all directions and on each side was a row of shops. Shops that sold things I had never seen in my life. There were cauldron shops (_Copper, Brass, Pewter, Silver, Self-Stirring, Collapsible_), apothecaries with bags of bizarre ingredients, robe shops, broomstick shops (which also seemed to be some sort of sports shop), book shops with stacks of spell books waiting to be read. There was a shop called _Eeylops Owl Emporium_ which I particularly wanted to explore except that the din of voices became unbearable the closer I got. I wondered momentarily how so many people could be crammed into that tiny shop, but Sue interrupted my thoughts. She laughed, took me by the arm and steered me away from the shop.

"We won't be doing any animal shopping yet. But first things first. We've got to get you some wizarding money. You have your Muggle money with you?"

I nodded.

"Good. We can go visit the goblins. The wizarding world has it's own bank: Gringotts. Just the one, mind you. There are to few of us to complicate matters with other banks. It's run by goblins, clever creatures, but unpleasant and, more importantly, ruthlessly self interested. However, they're very good at what they do. They're organised and impossible to rob. Gringotts is possibly the safest place there is in the world, wizarding or otherwise. They've got all sorts of spells and enchantments on the vaults. There're even rumours that they use dragons for the high security vaults, but I'm not so sure about that. At least, I hope not. I don't really want to find myself face to face with a dragon down there. You see, the vaults are underground, deeper than the London Underground, if you see what I mean. Although they come pretty close at times. Well, here we are."

I looked up at the imposing white staircase before me that led to an even more imposing and white building. What appeared to be two goblins stood beside an enormous bronze door. They bowed us in where we were met by another pair next to a silver door. A poem was engraved into the metal:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

Very welcoming. We were once again ushered through the doors this time into a vast marble hall. Goblins were busy making there accounts behind a long counter, while more goblins showed people in and out of doors that led off the hall. Sue walked up to goblin at a counter.

"We wish to exchange some Muggle money", she stated.

"Very well. In who's name?"

"Miss Marianne Cathcart."

I brought out the envelope mum had given me. It had 100£ in it which is a bloody lot if you ask me, but I'm not complaining. I banged the whole thing on to the counter and the goblin quickly counted the money. Then he did some very complicated conversion calculations on a very odd device and gave me a bag of coins in return. Then Sue ushered me back out of the bank quickly.

"I don't like goblins much", she admitted. "They make my skin crawl."

I must admit they weren't very endearing to me either.

"Well, I'm glad we're out of there. I can think properly. Money. It's simple. Gold ones are Galleons, silver are Sickles and little bronze ones are Knuts. Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle. Right so where shall we start?"

I finally read my supplies list.

Uniform

_First year students will require:_

_Three sets of plain work robes (black)_

_One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_

_One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_

_One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)_

_Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags_

Set books

_All students should have a copy of each of the following:_

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk_

A History of Magic _by Bathilda Bagshot_

Magical Theory _by Adalbert Waffling_

A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration _by Emeric Switch_

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _by Phyllida Spore_

Magical Drafts and Potions _by Arsenius Jigger_

Fantastic Beasts and where to find them _by Newt Scamander_

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection _by Quentin Trimble_

Other equipment

_1 wand_

_1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_

_1 set glass or crystal phials_

_1 telescope_

_1set brass scales_

_Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad_

_PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST-YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS_

So we set off into the crowded street.

"Let's get your uniform first. That'll take the most time. Madam Malkin's is good for Hogwarts uniforms. She makes brilliant dress robes too. Maybe we can spend a bit of time trying those on after she has you fitted. It's always fun trying on dress robes. Even if you can't afford them. Last time I came there she had the most gorgeous dark blue robes with this sort of oriental style sleeves and neckline. I looked like a troll in them but they were still fantastic."

I smiled my approval and we entered the shop. I realised that I hadn't spoken (or written) a word to Sue and yet I still felt completely at ease was her silly chatter. Usually people like that put me on edge but I could accept it in her. It was who she was, not some façade.

"Hogwarts dear?"

I nodded at the lady who had suddenly appeared in front of me. She led me to the back of the shop where she slipped a black robe over my head and started measuring it to the right size. I could see Sue out of the corner of my eye, moving excitedly about the shop. I wondered what she was doing.

When I was finished I stepped back into the main shop to pay for my robes. Once that was done I went looking around for Sue. I found her in another corner of the shop where the fitting rooms were. She was considering herself critically in the mirror. She was trying a dress robe on. I gaped at her in horror.

She was wearing the foulest piece of clothing in the world. It was pink. It was frilly. It was disastrous. I stared at her for a while, my good opinion suddenly crashing to the floor. Surely nobody could be as suicidal as to wear that!

She finally noticed me and turned to see the unmasked look of horror on my face. She giggled.

"Yes, I know it's fabulous, isn't it? I've never come across something so fantastically grotesque in my life. I simply _had_ to try it on! Now I will know how I look at my very worst, and _that_, my dear, is knowledge that precious few can possess!"

I smiled at her. What a relief! No she wasn't mad, after all. Then suddenly she caught me by the arm and dragged me to the next door fitting room.

"I've found you a pile of lovely robes you that you must try on. And I will not take no as an answer."

With which she pushed me into the cabin. I faced the pile of robes with mild trepidation but found that most of them were quite decent. I took the first one. Scarlet with quite um…revealing forms. Not for me. I have no forms. I'm only 11. The next one was better. Dark blue with flowing sleeves. I tried it on and suited me quite well.

"Come on. Show me something. I'm dying to see you as a witch."

I stepped out. Sue let out a gasp of admiration.

"You look splendid! Oh it would be such a shame not to take it! You should buy it" she whispered conspiratively . "You'll mother will never know." Then she giggled.

I smiled. There was no way I would buy this. I didn't need and I would grow out of it before it was of any use.

"Try the others on. I especially want to see the red one." I glared at her.

So I tried on all the dress robes. By the end, Sue and I were having an argument over whether the blue or the red one was best, until I finally remarked (on paper of course) that there was no point arguing because I wouldn't be buying either one in any case! So we put the whole lot back where they belonged and exited the shop, leaving a very disappointed Mrs. Malkin behind us. I suddenly noticed that I was famished. Sue and I looked at each other and came to a silent agreement.

"Lunch. Back to the Leaky Cauldron."

Once we had settled back to a wonderful meal, I asked the question that had been nagging me most.

'_How do you hide all this from Muggles?'_

"Well, that's what the Ministry of Magic is for. We have Merlin knows how many laws to prevent Muggles from discovering us. As well as controlling the use of magic and its experimentation. For the moment all you have to know is that you are an underaged witch and therefore you are not allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts."

Then we continued to discuss how the wizarding world was governed till I had a pretty good idea of how it worked. Then we finished lunch and went back out into Diagon Alley. I had a lot of fun in the book store, _Flourish & Blotts,_ looking at all the different aspects of magical life. It was just as informative as Sue. However, we were getting close to the end of the list and finally we came to what I was most anxious to buy. My wand.

"We saved the best for last", declared Sue, as we approached an old shop with the sign _Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC_. "Ollivanders; the best wand shop in Britain."

I stopped just in front of the door and looked at Sue.

'_Do you mind if I go in alone?' _

"Of course not, dear. Go ahead. I'll wait."

I walked into the shop my apprehension growing every second. I heard a tinkling of a bell in the back of the shop as I opened the door. This was the decisive moment. This would confirm my… witchdom. The shop was tiny and the light dim. It had a very calm and quiet atmosphere, like a library, the kind of atmosphere I like. But there was something disturbing, like a whisper that you can't tell where it's coming from. I peered at the thousands of thin long boxes stacked into the shelves around the room and waited.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. An old man appeared in the gloom. He was short and brittle with wispy white hair and silvery eyes. "And who do I have the pleasure of helping today?"

I tore a note from my notelace yet again, noticing with resignation that it's volume had lessened considerably since this whole Hogwarts business had started.

'_Marianne Cathcart.'_

I wasn't going to get into the details of my life.

"Very well. Let's get down to business. Which is your wand arm?"

I held out my left hand. Mr. Ollivander brought out a measuring tape and started measuring the most peculiar places of my anatomy. Between my nostrils? For heaven's sake! Suddenly I realised he wasn't doing any of the measuring anymore but that the tape was doing it on its own. Meanwhile Ollivander was shuffling around the shop, picking out boxes and talking.

"All wands are have a core of a magical substance. Most are taken from magical creatures such as unicorns, phoenixes or dragons. No two wands are the same just as no two unicorns or dragons are the same. And, naturally, you will never get as good result with another wizard's wand. After all, the wand chooses the wizard, not the other way round. Enough," the tape dropped to the floor. " I have a nice selection for you. Start with unicorn hair, willow, 10 inches, nice and supple."

I took it but he immediately took it from my hand and cast it away.

"No try this. Phoenix feather, mahogany, 6 inches, quite springy." I took it to have it immediately snatched away again. This ritual repeated itself for quite some time. I don't know how many unicorns, phoenixes, dragons, hollies, maples, mahoganies, willows went through my hands. Meanwhile Ollivander seemed delighted as the boxes stacked up and the pile of discarded wands grew.

"Tricky customer, I see. I'm sure I have just the thing for you." As far as I could see, he didn't and I was starting to think I wasn't a witch at all.

"Aha, unusual combination. Unicorn hair, ebony, 8 ¾ inches, swishy."

I took the wand without thinking, purely by habit, but this time I felt something different. A very soft tingling started in my fingers then little needles of fire shot up my arm. I swished my wand in an arc and a stream of blue and white sparks came from the end.

"Very nice! Oh, bravo!" Ollivander exclaimed. "Well that's you set up for Hogwarts."

I smiled at him and paid for my wand. Then I stepped outside. I had a wand! I was witch for certain now! Nothing could make my day better…

There was Sue waiting patiently… with two ice creams in her hands. My smile was so wide, I probably split my face in two. Sue smiled back at me.

"I know," she said. "I felt exactly the same after I bought my first wand."

We ate our ice creams in silence (obviously for me, not so for Sue-but then it had been a tiring day). Then we passed by the owl shop again and there still seemed to be an absolutely mad crowd in there. I stepped closer curiously to see why there were so many people.

There was no one in the shop.

I looked up and realized that I had been hearing the million of conversations the _owls_ were exchanging. I grinned.

"Do you want one?"

I spun around at Sue's voice then looked back at the owls. There wasn't any reason for me to have an owl. It would only cost more in food. Besides, dad would go through the ceiling. Better not risk it. I shook my head and continued passed the shop. But I couldn't shake away the name I had already given my owl.

We returned once more to the Leaky Cauldron. There, Sue bought a sack of Floo powder from the bartender. Then we went to the fire place where a roaring fire was burning.

"Now Floo is not too difficult. All you have to do is take a pinch of powder, throw it into the fire, step in and shout where you're heading to. I'll go first so you can see what to do and so you come out at the right grate." And before I could protest she was gone in a flash of green fire and a shout of 'The Old Kneazle'.

I stared at the fire, then at the handful of powder then at the fire again. Then I shrugged my shoulder and threw it into the fire. I stepped in and found that the fire had become pleasantly warm.

Suddenly I realized I couldn't shout. Oh, stupid, stupid woman. And meanwhile, I looked a complete idiot standing in a green fire. In a panic I wrote down the address, feeding it to the flames hoping maybe it would work. I waited a few seconds then suddenly I felt like I had been caught in a drain and I was spinning down a long narrow tunnel. My elbows banged against some brick so I tucked them in. The world was a spinning chaos of soot, smoke, fire and grates. Suddenly I felt myself slowing down and started to watch out for any glimpse of Sue, whatever dimension she may be in. Suddenly I fell head first into a chimney -or out of thereof. I looked up to find Sue and another woman rushing over to help me up.

"See. Wasn't so bad." I smiled. Yes it was rather like a violent roller coaster ride. I could deal with that.

And that was my first taste of the wizarding world.

That took me four hours to write! Well, now it's seven o'clock and seems a decent time to go to breakfast. I hope my Head is already there. I have a bone to pick with him.

_A/N: I only have one thing to say: reviews, reviews, reviews._


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